Fifty Shades of Futility

"'Yet she increased her prostitution, remembering the days of her youth when she engaged in prostitution in the land of Egypt. She lusted after their genitals – as large as those of donkeys, and their seminal emission was as strong as that of stallions.' And that, bitch, is Ezekiel 23:19. Any questions?"

Christian, having finished reading the text, closed the internet browser and turned to face me.

"There's no way that's from the Bible," I gasped. I could feel that my face was beet red. "Christian, could you loosen this noose? It's hard for me to breathe."

Christian sighed. The magic was gone. What used to be sexy kink shit was now nothing more than clockwork; the grinding passing of time, life burning on the bonfire, inevitable death followed by rebirth -- and the cursed circle repeats itself. What is reality? What is truth? In his youth, he looked forward to connecting these dots and finding his place in the world. Yet truth is nothing that can be seen, nor a thing you can capture in place. No, all he could confirm were these feelings of despair over his insignificance in a world of many which had outgrown him.

By now, his willy had gone right down, and Anna looked at him solemnly. "This isn't working, is it?" As he shuck his head in surrender, all he could think of was the night, when he would soak his sorrows in whiskey and video games.

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"Ohhh, oh! Oh fuck me harder, ngh ngh ngh yess ohhh", she screamed, vibrations shaking the room as her orgasm pushed the bass sound on Christian's speaker system to its limit; Christian also let out a subdued gasp, the pleasure mitigated by his shame -- to think it had come to this, Redtube and Kleenex at three AM!

"Shut the hell up there, son, Jesus Christ!" shouted Christian's dad. Just a week ago, his voice would have exploded with the rage of a man who had found an intruder in his castle; yet now he sounded dejected, consigned to this fate upon bringing Christian into the world. "How's my son such a goddamn faggot, Erika?" he chuckled, trailing off as he returned to his room. His only joy in life was to revel in the humour of their situation, and by God was he going to make the best of it.

As he turned to the bed, Erika spoke:

"Got damn him. I didn' bring him up like this! What 'appened with us, Niall?"

"Erika, if ah knew, you'd be the first to know." After a few moments of silence, Niall decided to change the subject. "You reading that damn sex book again?"

"It ain't no sex book! It's a bondage thing, stup' bitch likes to be hurt, it's about the psychology."

"Huh, well, what the hell you need that for? You got fifty shades of grey right here!" Naill gestured towards the top of his head, a bald spot surrounded by thin strands of grey.

Erika let out an affected laugh, and Niall fell silent. What the hell is this, he thought. Where did Niall go? Years back, he had exchanged his freedom for a life of compromise, and he had done his damn best to believe he was doing right by himself and his family. Looking over at Erika, he saw an empty shell, a nothing to which he could assign no value. He thought about the family he had raised, and decided that it too was a thing of no meaning to him; as he had aged, everything that he loved had been stolen from him, yet still remained in sight, a reminder of what was and what will never be again.

Niall thought about another thing that was long gone. Out of boredom more than lust, he moved close behind Erika and reached his arm around her. "I'm trying to sleep," she groaned. After a moment's silence, she spoke again.

"You know, Niall?"

"Yes, dear?"

"He's been a got damn faggot ever since he change his name to Christian."

Letting out an affected laugh, Niall turned away and closed his eyes.

Life is hell.

~FIN~